Simple
by Eophan
Summary: Just a story about Crona, and his homecoming with Medusa. Some MakaxCrona. Contains spoilers for manga only.


My insights into this chapter of the manga are my own, but I am not responsible for any of the plot, anything like that. Contains spoilers.

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"Mother?" Crona called out softly from the threshold, hand falling from the doorknob. He stepped inside the darkness of the old house as he heard bare feet slapping stone, and closed the door behind him. "I'm home," he croaked. He steadied his breathing as the woman's faint silhouette came towards him. Crona moved his right hand to his left elbow out of habit, feeling a little safer from the simple gesture.

Medusa padded up to him from the darkness of the house, and smiled down at him.

"Welcome home, Crona. It's been a while hasn't it?"

Crona kept his gaze towards the floor. "I'm finished." Crona allowed himself a moment to flick his eyes around in a circle, an old habit born from his fear. The shadows used to melt and and create endless hordes of monsters, but he knew better now. Seeing nothing, he stepped into the enveloping darkness, closing the door behind him. He was safe for now, his mother was there to take care of everything. He was home, for the first time in a very, very long time. Whatever he had set out to do, no matter what it could have been, it was done now.

"That's wonderful, Crona." Medusa wrapped a gentle arm around Crona and led him farther into the creaking house.

"It's an honor to be praised by you," he heard himself say. Exhaustion and fatigue was beginning to set in, but Crona let it. He was finished.

Crona had noticed that he'd become much more powerful lately, and he must have done a good job for his Mother to be proud. Whatever happened yesterday must have been pleasing to her, and devastating to others.

_Yesterday was very amusing, wasn't it? Such a shame that the memory of what happened is so unclear... Wait, I've said that before, haven't I?... __Oh well. One thing I do know: My blood is black._

There were a few things he could remember. He remembered Ragnarok and his Mother. His black blood that consumed him and made him nothing more than a weapon. Crona could remember glimpses of his childhood, and clung to an illuminated memory.

_When I was a child, I used to read a story..._

"I saw you battle against Tsar Pushka in Russia," Medusa purred as she took Crona's coat and set it aside.

Ah yes, that was it. He remembered the chaos he'd created, and smiled languidly. It was just a simple method of killing, nothing more. The Tsar had swallowed the insanity, and he dissolved in it. He was gone, leaving a solid mass of madness in his wake. It was the mission Crona had set out to do, and he'd done it well.

_A simple story._

"And what you did to that city in Ukraine..." Medusa mused, gazing at Crona with praise in her eyes.

Crona remembered buildings falling, the screams of the innocent as madness consumed everything.

Was it really him that did all that? Nevertheless, he did this well, and he did that well. He's done everything that could be done.

"You must be tired, right? I've prepared lunch for you," she motioned towards an elaborately set table. It was beautiful, there was soft warm bread, a delightful center-piece, and best of all: "It's your favorite dish: Pasta."

Crona's eyes followed her gesture towards the heaping plate, and he felt Ragnarok move out of his stomach to snap wildly in hunger, tongue lolling. He'd never seen so much food in his life. Crona quickly looked towards the floor in practiced submission. "...Yes," Crona muttered as he stepped forward, careful not to move too quickly and upset his mother.

"I've prepared as best as I could, for your sake. Eat as much as you like." Medusa's fork twirled and twirled around the noodles as she spoke.

_I am myself._

Why now? Why, after all this time, would she let him eat? He'd always been such a disappointment, and thus he could never eat. He was always so hungry, but it wasn't until all the little ones he had to kill were dead that he would be allowed so much as to lick the specks off of a dirtied plate.

_And I can't understand others._

As a child, he was locked away until he would behave. He laid his broken body on the ground and searched every aching corner of his mind, searched for just how he should deal with the situation. One answer just brought up more questions, and he could never get anywhere by thinking so much. The only possible conclusion he could ever come to was always the same. He stared into the consuming blackness, and repeated to himself the same answer until it dulled out all of his fear. Pain is no measurement of strength, and to cause himself pain by not killing would never make him strong. So that was that. He killed, therefore he was. Thou shalt kill, and thou shalt be rewarded. It's just how things work.

_There are things that I have to kill._

He killed a little one with his sword.

He killed a little one with pressure.

He killed a little one with a strike.

For that, he could eat. The little ones didn't deserve to die, but after being left alone with only his thoughts for company for five days, what else was he supposed to do?

So the Russians, the people in Ukraine... No, everyone, the whole world has to die. It was the only way Crona knew how to stay alive.

_Things that I have to erase._

Crona stared at the steaming plate of pasta in front of him, and suddenly felt sick. He moved the food around and cut it up, to be polite.

"Eat as much as you like," Medusa repeated, "If you want seconds, we have plenty. And after you've finished eating, you can take a shower and rest."

Crona took in Medusa's words silently. His food remained uneaten.

_It was a story describing every possible way to kill people._

"I'm sorry for all the things that I've done to you."

"..."

"Everything was... Painful, to you."

"..."

"But you endured, you grew up, and now you're wonderful. You're a wonderful child."

"..."

"Thanks to you, my research on the black blood is almost done. After that, the only thing that remains is to make the Kishin yours."

He blinked slowly in response. Crona heard the scuffle of a chair sliding out, and felt a hand upon his shoulder.

"Thank you, Crona."

He waited for his punishment, but something else happened entirely.

Warm arms wrapped around his neck.

"Ah..." A rush of emotions filled him at once. For a moment, the happiness was almost painful. There was something wrong though...

"You are my pride."

_Just a simple story about killing people._

Crona remembered everything. He remembered how he struggled every day for the sake of his mother. Nothing would ever be good enough for her, and that was a truth he had come to accept. He stopped trying to fight against it at a point, when the madness she wanted from him was so much easier. Crona's Mother always knew just exactly what needed to be done, and no matter how afraid it made him, no matter how painful it might be, it was only what was right. He had to trust in Medusa, because the pain is better than the emptiness.

But then, there was a moment of inspirational hope. He believed for a short time that he could be loved, that someone could love him in return. That maybe he... _Deserved _kindness, for all his suffering. It was a stretch, he'd never done anything to help anyone. It was then that Crona remembered how he'd slaughtered hundreds of innocents. How he'd only cry, falling into a pit of self-pity, instead of ever trying to fight back against the forces driving him to kill. It felt good, the satisfaction of murder and the blood on his face was the only thing that ever felt real, so why even bother?

Maka. He remembered her.

Crona tiredly swept his gaze over the landscape. He was on an island, an endless expanse of bright blue water surrounding him in every direction. The water was beginning to recede, but it didn't mean anything.

"I don't what to do now... " Crona said, sitting down and curling himself into a ball. "It's too quiet, I'll just talk... This is just how I am... There are things that I have to kill... Things that I have to erase...I've always been taught to throw everything away, because everything will only hurt me, and-... And this hurts. I... I guess I've always sort of... Loved her... I hate me, there's nothing good about me, the only person I've ever loved is Maka... If she were dead, if I were to kill her, it wouldn't matter anymore, everything that's important would be gone. I'd just be a weapon again, I know how to do that at least... Haaa, I could just do that. If I just kill everything, then the problem won't exist anymore... But... There isn't even a point in that... There's no point in anything... Even if I kill everyone, even Maka, it wouldn't change anything. Ohh it's just... It's too much, I-... I wish that everyone would just go away and leave me alone. I just want to be alone, just let me die..."

"_Someone understands though, right? Isn't that enough?"_

"Ah. It's you again, we've met before. Please, just leave me alone."

"_You're so trapped in yourself, but why? I thought we were done with this silliness. Weren't you remembering how happy you were with your friends at Shibusen? With Maka?"_

"It isn't right, I'm just being so selfish."

"_Happiness isn't selfish. Love isn't either. It's OK to feel both of those things, no one is going to think badly about you. Why can't you accept that everyone just wants you to be happy? The pain that you've endured is paying off! You're strong now! Why can't you accept that?"_

"I understand what other people think now, and it's nothing new. I'm insane, we're all insane, I'm aware of that, I can't let other people's thoughts concern me."

"_Here you go again, this isn't even your insanity talking, you're falling into yourself again, You won't let go of your depression because you're actually scared of letting someone else love you. You don't need to be used in order to be loved, what your Mother taught you wasn't love! I want to reach you before you lose yourself and do something drastic! Please, let someone care about you!"_

"You're being mean."

"_'Mean' doesn't even mean anything! It's like you want everything to be as bad as you say it is!"_

"I don't! I just-... I just-..."

"_Please, I don't want you to fall into that place again, that horrible darkness, you deserve so much more..._"

Crona covered his face with his knees, and began to cry. He wasn't angry anymore, not even sad. He was just so tired of all this.

"It doesn't matter... Go away. I don't need you anymore."

"_That's not good... If you insist though. I wish I could have helped you, I wish I could have made you happy. That's all I've ever wanted, was just to see you smile..."_

"_I'm so sorry."_

The water was gone, leaving only sand.

Crona blinked slowly. Something just happened in his mind. He couldn't remember what it was... But it didn't matter. His mother... What was she thinking, doing something like this? It isn't right, it doesn't make sense...

Because it isn't right.

"You can't do that... You can't be so gentle to me. You...You...You're my mother, I became like this because you told me to. I threw everything away for you..." The tears began to fall. His whole world was so forcefully, so callously being ripped up from underneath him. It was cruel, crueler than any other hardship he'd endured. It was the final blow, the final confirmation of how truly empty everything, including himself, truly was. "And yet, now you behave like a normal mother..."

"I don't know what I have to do."

-_Shick_-

"C-Crona?" Crona felt the weight of his mother as her body tensed around Ragnarock. Her breath came out in spurts, and he heard her laugh in shock. This was nothing to a witch of her caliber, but how could she know how to fight against something like this: Her own, obedient child?

It was pathetic.

"I don't want to hear gentle words..." Crona said quietly, thrusting the blade up further into Medusa's stomach. "They annoy me, I don't understand their meaning. I threw away everything, just as you told me to."

"I thew away everything because you told me to do so!" He screamed, Crona pulled the sword out of his Mother, and watched with disgust as she stumbled, the vector snakes in her body releasing themselves from her wounds and her mouth, flying in every direction. He generated a second sword from his blood, shoving both parts of Ragnarock through Medusa. She was pushed back from the force, not even trying to fight.

"And yet, that's unfair _Mother..._" he sneered, turning the swords inside of her._ "_Because you made me throw away the only one who loved me. You're fucking kidding me, I'm still the only one that lives with an old bat like you."

"I threw away even Maka, and yet, if you threw away everything like I did... Doesn't that mean you abandoned me as well?" Crona pulled the two swords apart, easily ripping Medusa in two. She didn't attempt to fight back, but the pain in her eyes and the growing madness within her was evident. Soul-sight wasn't necessary to see even that.

No, his Mother, his real Mother, would never do this. Would never be beaten so easily after saying such kind things.

"And yet! And yet! And yet!" Crona generated another sword, then another. He could see fear in this woman as he readied himself, poised to strike, just like the snake he was born from.

"Who the fuck are you? Give me back my Mother! My precious Mother would never say those words!"

Everything was a mass of blood as Crona enacted just another one of the simple ways to kill people, over, and over, and over again. He reveled in it, knowing only the feel of steel slicing again and again through cartilage and bone and sinew. It lasted for hours, days, years, the stench of blood soaking into every corner of his own childhood home. There was nothing else anymore, nothing else would ever matter again. The only thing left was to destroy everyone, to obtain the Kishin just as was originally planned.

Everyone will die.

"She is dead. I killed her. Maybe she was important to me, but it doesn't matter... I don't know that." Crona laughed, vaguely aware that he was panting from the strain.

Medusa's voice, hysterical and piercing, shrilled with laughter. "Now it is complete! You've thrown away the last thing you relied on, and the black blood is complete!"

"That's enough out of you," Crona thought, and plunged the sword through that foul mouth.

"I love you, Crona."

She was gone, and so was he.

_This is just a simple story about killing people._

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A/N

Saaalve... Mariiiiiiia. Prega per noi... Per noi peccatori. Adesso e nell'ora della nostra morte. Amen.

I love Crona so much, he/she is a character that is so very close to my heart. We can all relate to Crona, in a way. I hope I was able to portray his personality right. I wanted to delve a little deeper into this chapter in the manga, since it seems open to interpretation. I'd like your thoughts, regardless, if you please. Your reviews are delicious~

Thank you very much for reading.


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